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Coming In From The Cold - Part 2
The starboard portion of the cargo hold is outfitted as a medbay, the medical droid stationed in one of the corners. The medical beds are enclosed in individual curtained areas, each one set up with monitoring equipment that is often found in much larger ships, but no expense has been spared, only the most accurate of equipment is utilized. Each curtain is made of a transparent sheet of material that is drawn around on a track, sealing the bed off from the rest of the room, if need be. The medical treatment section of the medbay is takes up nearly half the length of the space from midship forward, leaving the rest of the space to be utilized for research and quarantine for the work that the ships doctor also conducts. A sealed room is reached through a air tight door, a small chamber for decontamination, followed by another door leading into the laboratory. This lab, also, is outfitted with the peak of laboratory equipment, a stainless steal table that runs in a u-shape around the room. A cryo-chamber is rigged as a sub-zero holding unit along with shelves that are fronted by transparisteel hinged doors to allow for ease of access to the contents shelved therein. Drax Rendolen wakes up and it's as frenzied a motion as a computer firing up for the first time in days. Memory buffers are blank and need to be quickly filled with essential data to run and survive. Where am I? Who is here? What do I have available to me? Am I safe? With everything he has, he fights to lift the weights on his eyelids, blinks a few times and lazily rolls his eyes back and forth to get a picture of his current situation. The Alderaanian finds himself tucked into the corner of the room, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Inventory: lighter, nicosticks, and a small vibro-blade. He takes a moment, building his strength and uses his good arm to pull himself up, grimacing as some of his weight lands on the leg that had been hit. At a reasonable pace, he pulls himself back over to the bed that the doctor was insistent he stay in and slides into place. Guard check in seven minutes or so. Possible doctor check in at a similar time. Whether the Alderaanian is aware of it or not, Cassius is aware of his vitals at all times throughout his stay. The monitor picks up the sudden change in bio-status, alerting the doctor to the change. Cassius cues up the nearest monitor to observe Rendolen's progress from startled-awake to returning to the bed. She makes a small sound that is almost, quite nearly, a chuckle. Shaking her head, Cassius finishes the last of the cup of caf she's drinking, sets it aside before she walks through the ship to her medbay. Pausing outside the door she palms the security panel, cycling open the door itself (though it wasn't locked, just latched, something Drax was made aware of from day one) and steps inside. "Ord Mantell, Landing Zone, Military Base, threat level slightly elevated but no significant threat indicated that I've been read into. The weather looks like we're going to be hit with a storm before morning, so it's muggy but not to uncomfortable outside. Traffic it the usual snarl," all of this is relayed in a mild, calm, tone of voice. "Do you remember why you're here?" No comments from the doctor indicate to Drax that he had quite clearly landed the schedule and managed to hide his illicit floor-sleeping activities. His eyes are partially closed as the doctor enters and he opens them fully as she enters, doing his best to let he think that she had just awoken him from a beautiful sleep in this too-fluffy bed. "Depends who's asking." He grins and chuckles a bit at his own comment, eventually cutting it off as he strains to reach around with his good hand to prop himself up on the bed. He didn't like to leave the room much. A few walks about the ship to get his legs back and learn the territory, but he mostly just wanted to stick to the place he was most comfortable. Somehow, for him, it was hard to shake the feeling of a prison and it was everything he could do to not start snatching random objects and hide them just in case he would need them. It was the sort of feeling he hated and yet experienced almost non-stop over the past years. "How are things looking so far? Think I'll be able to get a nice looking arm or one of those awkward industrial jobs again?" Cassius snags one of those small three legged stools and takes a seat, drawing a datapad from the pocket of her lap coat and draws up the most recent images on the screen. "I was thinking to fashion you with a custom fitted cutlass," she suggests with a straight face. Drax takes the comment with a nod, contemplating the idea seriously, "You know, security at starports and government buildings will just love me with that thing. On the other hand, I'll never have to worry about the waiter forgetting to give me the right knife for my steaks." He snorts briefly and then fights the urge to pat his leg for a pack of nicosticks. "You be careful. That dry delivery could get the best of you one day." Gasses are released as the smooth action of the door is activated. A calm guard pops inside the room and begins making the rounds inside, his eyes wandering over the instruments and occupants as he does so. Subtle differences exist between this and his normal set of rounds in the room. Behind him, the door stays open to the hallway where another guard stands, his back to the inside of the room. Meanwhile, the first security officer keeps his hands at his hips where his holster is unbuckled. "If I thought that a custom fit cutlass was the only way to go, I'd honestly say so. You need a real, functioning, healthy appendage. By healthy I mean something that isn't going to further impact you, psychologically as well as physically." She glances toward the door as it opens, casting a brief glance over the guards that step in, though her attention easily shifts back to Drax. "I'd like you to consider a full replacement limb. Not just a hand or a hook or a mechanical apparatus that looks like it escaped from some low budget horror flick. But a custom, top of the line, bio-engineered, built from your own genetic material replacement." "Oh come now, doctor! That's a whole part of my mystique! I mean, women ask me to tell them the story in bars, people get to stare when I walk by, and I get to take the best parking spots with my speeder. Truthfully, I'd love to go in that direction." The guard always draws his gaze when he enters, it's just a matter of reflex and instinct. Part of the act was to look him over and try to gather information about the outside world. Patterns were life when it came to security work and bad things seemed to follow breaks. "Tell me doc, you ever play Riftwalker? I was in a hand once where I actually very nearly lost my arm on a bet." Drax waited for the security officer to pass behind Lynae and began to pull his vibro-blade and palm it against his wrist. The guard's hand was now dropping to the side at his holster and his eyes were all the way on the side of his sockets, trying to keep a lock on Lynae and Drax while keeping his head forward. Meanwhile, the second officer now enters the room, the door shutting behind him. The man wastes no time, raising a blaster pistol as he begins to speak, "The Sith never forget and never forgive." Cassius is laughing quietly at his remarks, "Handicap speeder parking pass," she is saying as her eyes track the way he pulls the blade from it's position and secures it against his wrist. The laughter is fading as she follows his line of sight to see two of her guards in her medbay, the tension level suddenly and abruptly sharp as one raises a blaster pistol. Cassius is on her feet immediately, hands held to her sides as she steps neatly across the room and puts her body in front of Drax's. "What is this, Coleman?" she asks, her voice low, clear, crisp as she divides her attention between Coleman and his counterpart, Kretzman. Just one former associate? The orders would be to observe and report. Two former associates, each with high value information? The orders get entirely hostile. Kretzman is now catching up with his associate, his blaster drawing as he now abruptly changes course to head directly for the good doctor. Coleman, meanwhile begins swivelling his gun in the direction of the two. General rule to live by: never count on your opponent having his blaster in stun mode. Actually, never count on the best case scenario, always operate on the worst until you know otherwise. Based on Cassius' reaction to his warning, the intelligence agent was assuming two assailants and not three. One drawing and one nearly ready to shoot and at a greater distance. A quick bit of prioritizing and he was off. Drax pulls himself forward, swinging an arm around while gripping the end of his blade with two fingers. At the apex of the swing, he releases the blade, sending the weighted tip around and sailing towards Coleman. His momentum continues with the blade as he launches himself off of the bed, one arm up to balance himself as he does so. Even as Drax is throwing the blade and launching himself off of the bed, Cassius is drawing a slim blade from her side and rushing abruptly forward to handle Kretzman's apparent break with rational and linear thought. The blade is held in a low guard position, her free hand curled subtly at her side, fingers flexing once, then again, before she launches herself at Kretzman. Avoiding the outswung fist, she angles her upper body sharply to the side, drags her free hand along the sleeve of the arm that slides past her and grabs a fistfull of the material. Inside his personal space she slices the keen edge of the vibro-blade across his open palm even as she slams the heel of one foot down on top of the toes of one of Kretzman's shoes, bending a knee to deliver the follow up knee-to-groin insult to injury. Coleman drops as the soaring blade comes for him, causing it to sail wide over his shoulder. Not to be deterred, he rises back up and squeezes off a quick shot at the Alderaanian. "We will never forget either of your treachery!" Drax lands on the ground in a crouching roll as the blaster shot echoes loudly in the room. A red line lances across and scores a hole in the bed where he had just been resting. Wasting no time, he spins himself around on the ground, his leg coming out to try and sweep the feet out from underneath Coleman. Unfortunately, his stiff leg and lack of a second arm fouls up the movement and the security officer is able to easily take a step back to avoid it. The sound of blaster fire in the contained space that is her medbay makes Cassius wince and cast a quick look to where Drax is battling against Coleman. Her attention, though briefly diverted, does give Kretzman the ideal opening to bring the business end of the blaster into position. He aims, settles his line of sight and fires all in one smooth, well practiced, well oiled even, movement. Cassius is turning her attention back to Kretzman as she sees the blaster lifting into position, a startled sound that is more shock and alarm than fear slides free as she's trying to twist out of the way. The blaster bolt slices through the air, grazing her upper arm in the process as she brings the blade upward again, catching his free arm again with one hand while the flat of the blade lands against the barrel of the blaster and shoves it upward again. In contrast to their shouted words about treachery, she saves her breath for the fight at hand. All monologue spiels can be dissected later. Coleman is still at it in full force and he levels his blaster at the new location of Drax Rendolen, pulling the trigger the moment he can. Again, the weapon spits angry red energy at the Alderaanian. Never bring a knife to a blaster fight. Drax could practically hear it ringing in his head with each shot and he's working as best he can at one of the only two tactics that can work; running away or staying close. Coming out of the failed leg sweep, he uses his good leg to push himself back up and brings his hand around to grasp Coleman's gun hand, wrenching the barrel around and causing his finger to now bend in a whole new direction. Cassius struggles with Kretzman over the blaster, the edge of the blade making a nasty sound against the metal plating of the gun itself. She shoves at him with her full strength, unable to bring the blade around to do more damage, despite the way that Kretzman is already leaking blood all over her floor. He, in turn, wrestles against the constant shoving and the threat of the blade angling toward his hands again and again. On any playing field, a stronger, bigger, better trained opponent will overpower a smaller lighter weight opponent more often than not. Cassius doesn't yield, however, swearing in a low voice that is more breath than actual words. There's a point in a chess match where the end is clear for one of the players and it is just a matter of playing through the moves until the other person sees it or the clinching move is made. The moment the pistol had been neutralized, Drax felt it was that point. As his finger cracks loudly, Coleman lets out a loud yell and brings his other arm around uselessly and reflexively. Reflexes of Drax's own, ground in from Special Operations training with the New Republic, kick in as he maintains his hold on the blaster and brings his good leg up. He chambers it in and then launches it out, half kicking the man in his stomach and half shoving him across the room. Coleman's finger tears out of the trigger assembly of his pistol and he flails for balance before slamming against the wall. Cassius is not, quite, holding her own but she is slowing down Kretzman enough that he isn't able to get free of her, let alone to attack Drax or help Coleman do so. From the outside looking in, the fight is all happening so very fast. But from Cassius's point of view, every forward-backward shove of balance is one eternity after another. More than once Kretzman tries to shove past her or shove her off balance. In return, Cassius pitches her full weight against him to foil that attempt, having seen the resolved look upon his face, she doesn't waste time trying to reason with him. Hitting the wall keeps Coleman in a steady place for a moment as Drax slips his own hand onto the handle of the blaster and pulls the trigger. The blaster barks, spitting a red lance at the security guard's center mass. A minor flash occurs as the bolt makes contact and he lets out one last yelp before stumbling over. Drax waits just long enough to see the hit go through and spins to level the weapon in the direction of the other guard, still trying to grapple with the concept of not having the second hand to steady the weapon the way he normally would. The weapon tracks around for a split second as he takes in the situation that had been going on behind him all this while. With the two as close as they are to each other, he holds back on taking a second, hasty shot and starts to close the distance while waiting for a target of opportunity without risking the doctor. Cassius's attention skids past Kretzman as Drax grapples with and then drops Coleman with a well aimed blaster shot. Her attention flicks back to Kretzman at the same instant that the guard, now enemy combatant, realizes that his partner is no longer in the fray. She gives up grappling for control of the blaster and instead slices the edge of the blade along his forearm, blood spraying in a thick red line as she shoves away from him, falling backward on purpose to clear Drax's line of sight. Emerald eyes take in the site as Cassius performs a textbook breakaway and setup. The moment she pulls away, Drax works the trigger of the blaster. Through a fine spray of blood, a red blaster bolt cuts through and hits home directly in the man's throat. The blast causes him to stagger back and he drops his blaster before falling to the ground, arms flailing to try and clear what might be blocking his breathing. Each movement has a little less energy behind it and, eventually, he is just laying there staring up at the ceiling. Drax moves up cautiously, his weapon still trained on Kretzman as he reaches the other man's weapon and kicks it towards the doctor. "You little piece of bantha dung. You tell him that Eleven sends his regards." One more shot rings out from the blaster to end the rather slow death of the guard and finally the NRI agent looks to Cassius, "Your son still onboard?"Emerald eyes take in the site as Cassius performs a textbook breakaway and setup. The moment she pulls away, Drax works the trigger of the blaster. Through a fine spray of blood, a red blaster bolt cuts through and hits home directly in the man's throat. The blast causes him to stagger back and he drops his blaster before falling to the ground, arms flailing to try and clear what might be blocking his breathing. Each movement has a little less energy behind it and, eventually, he is just laying there staring up at the ceiling. Drax moves up cautiously, his weapon still trained on Kretzman as he reaches the other man's weapon and kicks it towards the doctor. "You little piece of bantha dung. You tell him that Eleven sends his regards." One more shot rings out from the blaster to end the rather slow death of the guard and finally the NRI agent looks to Cassius, "Your son still onboard?" Emerald eyes take in the site as Cassius performs a textbook breakaway and setup. The moment she pulls away, Drax works the trigger of the blaster. Through a fine spray of blood, a red blaster bolt cuts through and hits home directly in the man's throat. The blast causes him to stagger back and he drops his blaster before falling to the ground, arms flailing to try and clear what might be blocking his breathing. Each movement has a little less energy behind it and, eventually, he is just laying there staring up at the ceiling. Drax moves up cautiously, his weapon still trained on Kretzman as he reaches the other man's weapon and kicks it towards the doctor. "You little piece of bantha dung. You tell him that Eleven sends his regards." One more shot rings out from the blaster to end the rather slow death of the guard and finally the NRI agent looks to Cassius, "Your son still onboard?" Caught by the edge of the spray of pink mist and thicker, not quite pink, things, Cassius lowers the arm she'd lifted to shield her face and shakes her head. "No. Commander Cen and I have plans to speak to an informant of mine on Nar Shadaa and for the time being, he's at the Jedi Temple with other younglings who are of similar security risk protocol." She pushes to her feet and stoops over long enough to clean her blade on the edge of Kretzman's clothing before sliding it back into it's sheath. "What in the name of logic just happened here?" Adrenaline was still coursing through Drax's veins as he starts scanning over the room, now satisfied that there shouldn't be any further threat. He pulls the charge pack from his newly acquired blaster and taps it against his tongue for a moment. Satisfied with the amount of juice still remaining, he shoves it back into the weapon and gives Coleman another look. "I can really only guess." Coleman wasn't moving, the smoking crater in his chest testifying to his current state of being. Or not being, as it were. "Malign had one of the most impressive intelligence networks I've seen. To top it off, he's damn good at getting in people's heads..." Finally, he decides to lower his weapon to his side, standing a bit more at ease and turning to look at Cassius again. "You alright?" Cassius is quiet for a moment in consideration before she nods, plucking at the edge of the singed material sticking to her upper arm. "Nothing that I can't handle. You?" she asks before turning to really look at Drax. "These two have been part of my security detail for more than a year now. Almost two. What set them off?" It take a moment, but the weight of the situation lands on Drax and it shows as he continues to look at the doctor when she asks the question. "Lynae, I want you to know that I truly appreciate your help. I don't think it would be wise for me to stay here for the time it would take for growing the custom arm you talked about earlier." He looks at the blaster in his hand and sets it down on the bed where he had been laying only moments before. "Maybe we could get a simple cybernetic hooked up and I'll be on my way?" Cassius is silent for a moment in return, studying Drax with that so solemn gaze. "The custom arm is the only real solution, a cybnernetic appendage will only cause you more issues in both the long and short run," she notes in return, as though two dead bodies aren't littering the floor. "You are thinking that these two sleepers were activated by your presence in tandem with mine. They would've lingered as sleepers for a lot longer, is my initial guess, but something about the two of us being in the same place at the same time activated their orders." It's not a pleasant idea that he can't get out quick. Every cell in his body is screaming to run out of the ship and to make it to the tall grass somewhere. A place where he wasn't a danger to anyone else that he even remotely cared about. "I think the two of us together triggered it. I can only assume there's something Malign didn't want meddled with. Maybe it's in me, maybe it's something related to this all, or maybe it's something they figured I would bring around to try and keep unravelling all of..." His hand gestures over himself as he changes the motion into almost a shudder, "this." He takes his time with his words, moving over to the vent hood, flipping it up, and activating it to vent some of the smoke from the room. At the same time, he pulls a pack of nicosticks and a lighter down from inside, removing one with his mouth and then activating the lighter. "I have a text that shouldn't see the light of day. I used it in the past to counter some of what he did." Cassius flicks a fingertip against the end of the nicostick, "No smoking in here," she chides as she waves one hand to dispel the smoke. "Booze, yes, nicosticks, no." She neatly walks around the dead bodies, slides a panel aside near the mini fridge and reveals a rather well stocked selection of liquor to pick from. "Pick your poison," she offers. "So. This text, you have it with you or someplace secure, just in case? And what's done is done. They did what they had been programmed to do, and we fought back just enough harder to win the day. I wasn't afraid of Malign back in the day and I'm not going to be afraid of his henchmen now." "I hid it a while back. He wasn't exactly please that I'd rejected his 'gift' and I didn't need him reversing things." For Drax, it was different. He had quite literally spent the last several years with the man inside of his head and was still coming to terms with reality and what wasn't reality. No matter how most things fell between the two, the choices he had made could only be considered real. The offer of alcohol is an enticing one for the Alderaanian and his eyes lock onto the cabinet. It takes him a moment to weigh the choice and then he nods his head, "I won't argue against anything aged in a barrel for a while." The man's head drops back and he lets out a long breath, finally relaxing as the adrenaline winds down in his body. "I can try and get to the book the next chance I have. You'll probably be able to make more out of it that I did." Cassius selects two heavy glass tumblers, pours an ounce or two in each, stoppers the bottle again and carries one over to Drax. She taps her glass lightly against his, "To not getting dead, unexpectedly, without warning, in the middle of the day," in a rather dry tone of voice. She gives the liquid a brief swirl in the glass before tossing it back with a measure of calm equamanity, or possibly just expertise, a brief cough following the downed liquor. "I have copies of the research that he let me skim through, I can use that as a reference point for trying to decipher what ever it is that you have in that book." She fixes Drax with that same calm look, "You're positive you don't want a jedi to intervene?" Taking up the glass, Drax manages a grin as he holds it up in honor of the toast. "I'll drink to that any day." He pulls the glass in and holds it to his nose for a long, careful inhale. The oak and hints of... almost sherry in the drink gives him the closest feeling he's had to home since this craziness began a few weeks ago. He finally manages to overcome it and pulls in his first sip, savoring it and letting his head drop back once more. "No Jedi. What he did to me and what I did to myself would seriously upset them. Things had to happen to get the results we saw with the Sith and I don't think they would be comfortable with all of it if they knew the full extent." His eyes stay on the ceiling as he talks about it, the most he's managed to vocalize any of what had happened. "The book is the life work of an old Sith master. Malign used it for some of the inspiration with what he had done to me. To put things in perspective on why the Jedi should stay clear; the book is leather bound in the tattooed skin of the master who wrote it. I guess his apprentice thought it was a fitting way to preserve his work." He pulls his glass up and promptly finishes the rest of it in one large drink. Cassius sets her glass down, rather carefully, precisely even, and then seats herself shortly thereafter. "That's.. unsettling," she decides upon that single descriptive word before passing one hand lightly over her face and sighing. "The jedi are not, all, or collectively, the cotton headed prancy nancy dandies that we tend to think of them as. They are soldiers, warriors, teachers, healers, fighters, students and are drawn from all walks of life. To balance this sort of," her lips press together briefly before she continues with, "evil, there must be the other side of the coin. If they can decide, at large, not to burn me at the stake for the things I've done, they can decide equally to help you. If you want it." Drax manages to work up the will to look at Cassius again and he nods his head. "Believe me when I say I completely know and understand that. I used to work very closely with them. I think this is that I don't know who the heck I am anymore after all of this." He shrugs his shoulders and then rubs at his forehead. "But I don't know if I can forgive *myself* for this one, let alone ask anyone else to do it. I keep looking at this trying to figure out if it was the part of him that enjoyed it all or if it was me, but..." He shaking his head again. "I'm terrified that there isn't a difference between the two." There, he'd said it. It was on the tip of his tongue for ages and the picture that was right behind his eyes whenever he closed them and now it was out. The man just couldn't stand having it out there and decides to shift the focus. "So, these two. You have an incinerator I can start dragging them to and maybe the droids and work at cleanup? I could use a walk." "The droids and I can handle the clean up," Cassius remarks with a measured nod. "To be fair, the easiest disposal is to roll both bodies into body bags and jettison them in the gravity well of the nearest star. No evidence, no fuss, no muss," she explains, sounding the voice of experience and level headed reason and expedience all at the same time. Rising from her seat she crosses the room and gently rests both hands on Drax's shoulders and waits until he'll meet her eyes. "I am the butcher of Cochran," she reminds in a voice that is perhaps unexpectedly gentle. "I have murdered more innocents than I will ever heal in the rest of my lifetime and service as a physician. Malign gave me the opportunity to exercise the absolute worst facets of my self, and I lept at the opportunity. I murdered. I betrayed. I slaughtered. I aided and abetted. I slid down that slope, gleefully, willingly, eagerly. And every step of the way my brain, my overly analytical mind, was ticking away at how to be better at it. How to be.. more efficient. More bloody. More destructive. More everything. Until what was left of my sense of self was a tiny little rabbit voice worrying and gnawing over the remnants of my sense of right and wrong. All it takes for evil to triumph, Drax, is for good men and women to do nothing." She gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze before stepping back. "Malign never, ever, asked himself if he was doing right or wrong, evil or good. He seized the idea of power and corruption and knowledge for the sake of knowledge and not only let it eat him alive, but fed himself to it, eagerly. That you are terrified.. tells you that there's still enough of you left to come back from the edge." Having everything happen in a ship made everything so much easier. The normal fuss and mess with disposal just wasn't an issue here. Either ice them and dump them or drop them into the reactor. It was a foolish attempt at busy work, however morbid his idea of busy work may be. Drax Rendolen had flown A-Wings against a Death Star, raced swoops professionally, re-enlisted with Special Operations, led illicit and wildly dangerous operations for Talon Karrde, and worked undercover numerous times for New Republic Intelligence. The decisions in those scenarios all came quickly, without hesitation, and a hell of a lot faster than a situation like this. He manages to look at Cassius, meeting her eyes and taking to heart what she has to say. "Gods, I hope so. I'll think over the Jedi." He reaches up and squeezes her shoulder in return, "I really appreciate this, doc. I haven't, uh..." His hand retracts and waves about in the air, as if motioning towards all of the words that had just been spouted in the past few minutes, "Anyways, I don't normally..." He gives up at vocalizing and pulls another nicostick into the corner of his mouth. "I'm gonna take a walk, crack the airlock, and clear my head a bit." Cassius nods, appearing both calm and resolved once again, this unruffled appearance being her usual public facade, or poker face. "Take a walk, take some time, breathe in what passes for fresh air, watch people scurrying around. Let it settle you. I'll take care of things here. And Drax? No rush. No Fuss. No pressure. Take it one minute at a time, it doesn't have to be planned or plotted out any further than that right now. Life is messy, and it's not done kicking you or anyone else in the ass."